This morning I volunteered to be a reader at an elementary school down the street from my office. I'd run and walked past this large concrete 70's building many times but never been inside and the windows are shaded so that you can't see inside. I also read to my kids hundreds of nights when they were small but surprisingly I was a little nervous.
The book I was given to read was about a family loading up in the car and going to visit their extended family for several weeks.
As the volunteers gathered in the library waiting to be called to classes I read over the book to become comfortable with the book and the language, not thinking much about the context of what I was going to be reading to my 6 year old audience.
I could spend several paragraphs writing about the layout of the school and the class set up as it was so different from the small town schools and classes in Lenox and also where I grew up. This is city and a big school. But that is not really the point of this post.
Led to the "pod", as they call their classes, the teacher announced that I was here to read and would be in the library corner and kids could come over if the wanted to. I was offered a chair, but since the kids were on the floor that seemed fine with me. As I looked around the half dozen or so kids that had gathered I was struck by how different they looked from the very white rural families in the book and as I read along I would ask them questions about their families and going to visit. Then we got to a page where there were a dozen people gathered in the house, easting and chatting and I asked if the kids had gatherings like this with there families. Very matter of fact one little girl answered "I live in a motel room". The discussion continued as did my reading but my mind stopped right there. This bright chattering child was homeless and living in a motel room with her family.
Homelessness is often faceless and very removed and while I have met several homeless folks when volunteering at a meal program, hearing this from a child took be aback.
For all my worries about what I don't have or wish I could provide my children, this was a dope-slap reality check.
3 comments:
My daughter did some of her community service clinical at that school and would come home in tears each day she went. She expressed a profound sadness about the conditions these kids and their families were subjected to.
It gave me great pride to realize that I had raised such an empathetic daughter and can see that she will do what she can to help those less fortunate than we are.
We are indeed very blessed, more than we know.
and it should make you proud. Good job!
My sister is a speech pathologist and she tells me many horror stories that her little students tell her. Some live in cars, or rent one house, leave in a few months and move to another...it's a sad thing. It certainly does make you feel blessed for what you have and make you ashamed of the things you complain about...nice post...debbie Merry Christmas
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